Of Whiskey and Beer
by elledestiel
Summary: Dean gets drunk while talking with Castiel and Sam. (I tried to keep to the show in certain aspects. Slight Destiel. Hints at different seasons, but doesn't fall with any episodes.)
1. Chapter 1

"Everyone thinks there's something between us," Dean said. He took a gulp of his whiskey. It was cheap liquor, out of a plastic bottle from the gas station down the road, and it burned going down. It wasn't a good burn, and it tasted medicinal. The high proof was all Dean needed to ignore the taste.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked. He was sitting at the edge of the motel bed that Dean had claimed as his earlier that day. Other than the address, the motel room looked like all the others that the Winchesters frequented. One word came to Castiel's mind: shady. It was more of a place for junkies and Johns than for Dean and Sam.

"Well," Dean shifted in his seat next to the window, "they all seem to think that we're not just friends." Castiel gave Dean a questioning look. "That we're," Dean paused to find the right words.

"That we're together," Castiel finished.

Dean downed the last bit of his whiskey. "You said it, not me."

"Can I ask," Castiel said, "who is saying this?"  
"I don't know. Everyone." Dean got up to switch to beer. He couldn't take having another glass of the cheap whiskey, though he drank about half of the bottle. The case of beer sat next to the bag of ice against the motel door which was keeping them cold from the winter air outside. Dean twisted the top off by hand.

"Sam?" Castiel asked.

"Him," Dean said before taking a swig of his beer.

"Bobby?"

Dean shook his head. "Even he thought something was up."

Castiel looked down at his clasped hands in his lap. How many of their friends assumed that there was something between the two men? What were they doing that would cause them to believe in something so obviously absurd? "Meg?"

"Yes," Dean admitted. "Even though she has the hots for you, she sees it too."

"I don't understand." Castiel looked over at Dean. His hair was disheveled and a five o'clock shadow was forming on Dean's face. He clearly needed a shower and a shave.

"Meg, the black eyed bitch, she likes you likes you."

"Not that," Castiel said, "I don't understand why anyone would think we're together."

"Perhaps it's the profound bond between us."

"Perhaps," Castiel sighed.

"Maybe it's the fact that when we're together we say some crazy innuendo stuff that makes everyone question our sexuality."

Castiel said, "You're the one saying the crazy innuendo stuff that makes everyone question your sexuality."

"Shut up, Cas," Dean said behind his beer. He downed a rather large gulp and slammed the empty bottle on the table next to him.

"Well," Castiel sighed, "what do you feel about all this?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. He truly didn't know. All of his jokes and comments were done just to be sarcastic and funny towards his friend. None of it had any intention behind it. And everyone knew he flirted with the first pair of breasts that walked into the room.

"Should we just come out and say it, then?"

"Say what?" Dean blurted out.

"That there's nothing between us."

"That," Dean started to say, "that is a good idea." He took another beer out of the case.

xxxxxxxxxx

Sam jiggled the motel key into the lock until the door opened. He stopped in his tracks. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Castiel who sat opposite. Their knees were oddly close together. "Am I interrupting something," Sam asked as he placed his backpack on the floor.

"No," Dean got up and rubbed the back of his neck, "we were just talking."

"Anything good?" Sam asked.

"Not particularly," Castiel said. The talk moved from their discussion of what their friends thought about them to their own feelings of the situation. Dean had a bit too much to drink, and he began to open up to Castiel. It really was a truth serum, and Castiel learned a good deal about his friend. Some of the things he didn't need to know. Especially the bit of information concerning his relationships.

Sam popped open a beer using the end of his flannel shirt. He couldn't fathom how Dean could do it solely by hand. The ridges dig in to your palm if you can't master it correctly. "So what are we doing tonight?" He sipped his beer and sat in a chair at the table by the window.

"Well," Dean sighed as he slouched into the chair across from his brother, "I'm ready to call it a night."

"Come on, Dean," Sam said. "I just got here. The research at the library took longer than it needed to."

"Did you find anything?"

"Maybe," Sam said. He grabbed his backpack and took out all of the books that he checked out that afternoon. Sam had to lie about living in the county to get a card in order to take out the ones that he needed. The books were on urban legends, American folk lore, world mythology, and world cultures. Sam placed them on the table along with his laptop. "Have at it."

"What, you didn't read any of these?"

"No, Dean. I didn't."

"Then what were you doing all day?"

"I was doing the librarian behind the historical research texts."

"At a boy, Sammy," Dean gave his brother a wicked grin.

"I believe he was being sarcastic," Castiel piped up. He was still sitting on the edge of Sam's bed with his hands clasped in his lap.

"Oh, come on, Sam," Dean said. "For once can you not be such a nerd and actually live a little?"

"Not planning on it," Sam said. He finished his beer and made to get another. Dean motioned for one as well. "You want one, Cas?"

"No," Castiel said. "I should be leaving." And with that, Castiel vanished.

"Why doesn't he just use the door?" Dean mumbled behind his beer.

"'Cause he's Cas," Sam replied. "What were you both talking about while I was gone?"

Dean sighed and looked down at his boots. They were still caked in mud from the week before. The cemetery that they were digging in had been a soggy, squishy mess of earth and grass. It had rained most of the day, and began to let up once the Winchesters found the grave plot that they were looking for. His shoulders ached as he thought of how difficult it was to shovel. "It wasn't anything."

"Alright," Sam shrugged it off. If Dean didn't want to talk, he wasn't going to push it. "So, about the case," Sam started to say.

"It's an odd one, I'll tell you that." Dean took a sip of his beer. "I resorted to calling Garth about it all, and he was of no help."

"How is the skinny little guy?"

"Still managing to stay alive," Dean said. "Caught a case down in Florida, ganked a zombie in Miami." Dean poured a shot of whiskey into his paper cup and downed it in one gulp. "That little prick gets all the best cases."

Sam shrugged. "You find them, you gank them. And Castiel didn't say anything either?"

"It didn't come up," Dean replied.

"So these seemingly random killings might just be random after all." Sam sat back and ran his hands through his hair. His lanky legs made him look larger than he was. Sam really was all legs and hair. One of his reoccurring dreams was of waking up to see Dean smiling while holding a pair of scissors in one hand, and his brown locks in the other. It was up there with his nightmares about clowns and midgets.

"I'm not so sure about that," Dean said. "It could be right up our alley."

"You think?"

"Well," Dean downed another gulp of his beer, "I think we should just go and talk to the cops, see what's up." He drank the last, bitter end of his beer and slammed the bottle down. "Get me another one, Sammy."

"I think you've had enough."

"Just get me another one."

"Okay, fine," Sam said. He reached over and grabbed his brother another beer. "I'll give it to you if you at least tell me what's going on between you and Cas."

"I told you, it's nothing."

"It seemed like something," Sam said. "My birthday's not until another five months, so it's not that."

"Yes," Dean said. "We're pitching in to take you to Europe for your birthday. Nude beaches and French accents." Dean wiggled his fingers, trying to get Sam to hand over the beer.

"Come on, Dean, you and Cas seemed to be in deep conversation."

As he snagged the bottle from his brother, Dean tried to remember what exactly he said to Castiel. He had a lot to drink and his night was getting hazy. Dean knew he'd black out at any moment if he kept drinking. If he hadn't already. He really wasn't sure. "We were just discussing how everyone thinks we're…," Dean trailed off.

"And the verdict is?"

Dean shut his eyes and lifted his beer bottle to the air. "Guilty."

"And that means…"

"I'm wasted and I'll forget all of this in morning."

"Here." Sam got up and took a paper cup from the stack on the table. He went to the bathroom and ran the water until it got cold. Sam filled the cup and walked back to Dean. "Drink some water, it'll help."

"Thanks," Dean said as he took the offering. Sam was used to this. If the alcohol didn't knock his brother out cold, then Sam tried to sober him up the best he could. Greasy foods usually were the way to go, but Dean didn't look like he would be able to keep anything solid down. Not now, at least.

"What do you mean by guilty?" Sam finally asked as he sat back down.

"I don't know," Dean said. He took a sip of his water. "I was over thinking things and I just kept on drinking and over thinking and talking…"

Sam let Dean ramble on, his words were becoming less intelligible the more he talked. Once Dean had stopped, Sam felt he needed to ask something else. It was the one thing that had been bugging him. "Do you really think that you're hiding behind your tough guy exterior? That you're compensating for something?"

"Yes," Dean said without thinking. "I've been lying to myself, haven't I?"

"I don't know, have you?"

Dean drank the last of his beer. He smiled. "Cas is awesome, isn't he?"

"Drink your water, Dean."

"Seriously," Dean continued with a smirk on his face. "Cas is awesome."

At that comment, Sam knew that Dean was past the point of no return. "Let's get drunky to bed." He aided him over and Dean hit the mattress with a thud. Sam untied his brother's boots and slid them off of Dean's feet. He wasn't planning on doing anything more than that. Dean would have to sleep in his clothes tonight.

"Cas is awesome," Dean mumbled over and over until his eyes shut, and he began to lightly snore. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He couldn't decide what was worse, seeing his brother wasted or seeing him starting to confess what everyone already had figured was true. Sam knew it was about time that Dean would admit it to himself. He just didn't want it to be while Dean was intoxicated.

Sam left the motel room. The winter air sent a chill down his spine. Snow had been falling slowly, melting as it hit the cement. Sam started to pace up and down the parking lot of the motel. "Cas," Sam started to say out loud, "I don't know if you can hear me. You tend to only care about hearing Dean when he prays to you. If you can hear me, could you please just fly down here and talk to me. It's about Dean." Sam stopped and looked up. Castiel was standing only a few feet away.

"What's wrong with Dean?" Castiel asked.

"He got wasted, and passed out when I got him to bed."

"I figured he'd do that," Castiel sighed.

"What exactly did he say to you?"

"Nothing more than the usual."

"Which is…," Sam said.

"We discussed quite a bit, actually. It got uncomfortable for me when he started talking about his escapades, and the awkwardness of leaving the girls he sleeps with in the morning. It was hard to comprehend, as I've never had that experience. But, mainly, Dean doesn't want to lie to himself anymore. He feels that he's drifting through life in a way that he's beginning to regret."

Sam started to pace again. "He thinks his whole life he's been trying to hide who he really is. That he's just acting like Dad, in his dress and demeanor, and trying too hard to not let himself be an individual. That he's hiding behind his woman worshiping ways." All of what Dean had rambled on about was being reiterated by Sam. He was more talking to himself than to Castiel.

"And all it took was a few of you thinking that we have something going on between us."

"Yup," Sam said. He stopped walking and looked up at his friend. "Did he tell you what he thinks about you?"

"Not that I can recall," Castiel said.

"He kept repeating, 'Cas is awesome', over and over again before he finally fell asleep."

"That's good, right?"  
"That's very good," Sam said. "I just thought that you should know, because I doubt he'd admit it himself."

"Well, then," Castiel said, "if that's all."

"Cas," Sam started, "could you just do me a favor and bring over something greasy for Dean in the morning? He'll need to sober up before we start investigating this case."

"I think I can manage that," Castiel said before he disappeared into the night. The snow began to fall down harder and Sam pulled his coat tighter around him. His eyes were getting heavier as he made his way back to the motel room. Sam made sure the door was locked and bolted before crashing into his bed. Usually he would tear down the top bed cover before crawling into a new motel mattress, but he was too tired to even care at the moment. Sam couldn't get the thoughts of his big brother having feelings for something other than a busty woman in scantily clad clothing out his mind. Quickly, Sam's thoughts drifted to the pretty blonde librarian that helped him find the books that he needed. She had to be roughly his age, having just left college for a career in library science. Her blouse had been buttoned up to her chest, and Sam couldn't help but notice that the pink lace of her bra was visible as she leaned over to type a few words into the library database. Sam let his mind drift as he shut his eyes and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke up to see Dean sitting at the table. He was still in the same clothes as last night. Dean had a cheese burger in hand. "Cas stopped by," he said behind a mouth full of food.

"I can see that." Sam sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He too had fallen asleep in his jeans and t-shirt. At least he remembered to remove his boots.

"He bought you a burger too," Dean said, tilting his head towards the fast food bag. "Don't worry. No bacon, no cheese."

Sam made a mental note to thank Castiel for remembering his request. "Did he stay long?"

"Nope," Dean said. "He left shortly after dropping this off." He took another bite of his burger.

"I thought he'd hang out for a bit."

"Nope," was all Dean had said. The only thing on his mind was devouring his burger. His hangover was brutal. The pounding above his eyes, and the horrid feeling all over his body was starting to ease up as he finished the meal that Castiel had appeared out of nowhere with. It was from his favorite burger joint. Castiel really was awesome.

"Gonna head out to the see the Sheriff?"

"In a minute, Sammy," Dean said. He shoved the last bite of burger in his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, "I still feel god awful."

"You did drink all of that," Sam said as he pointed to the empty beers that lined the window sill. The plastic bottle had only a forth of whiskey left. For anyone else, it would have landed them in the ER for alcohol poisoning. For Dean, it was enough to get him nice and drunk. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"Um," Dean paused to think, "I was talking to Cas, you came in, then I woke up, and ate this burger."

"So, nothing about what we talked about?"

"What'd we talk about?"

"Nothing, Dean."

"Then why bring it up?"

"No reason," Sam said. "I'm going to shower."

Dean called out to his brother, "Don't forget your suit!"

xxxxxxxxxx

Dean and Sam found nothing out of the ordinary when they talked with the Sheriff. It was all routine, he told them. There wasn't anything strange at the crime scenes, nor was there anything unusual on the bodies. Nothing tied the victims to each other. Upon seeing each body at the morgue, Dean had to agree. The stab wounds on all three bodies matched; five right to the heart. All the organs were in their respective places, and there weren't any other markings on the bodies. It was Dean's hunch that it was up their alley, and it turned out to not be the case. Rarely did they come up so short.

Dean sighed as he put the keys into the ignition of his Impala. "I thought for sure we found something."

"It happens," was all Sam could say as he loosened his tie.

"No crap it happens," Dean mumbled under his breath. He shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. "We don't do serial killers. We do serial killing monsters."

"We did deal with some crazy ass humans over the years," Sam said.

"Don't get me started on how I don't understand humans," Dean said. "I'd rather handle some jacked up shifter than a crazy guy with a shive."

"You're a crazy guy with a shive," Sam retorted.

"You know it," Dean said as he hit a button on the radio. The J Geils Band blasted through the speakers. Dean couldn't help but to sing along with Peter Wolf. He pointed his finger at Sam, "My blood runs cold! My memory has just been sold. My angel is the centerfold, angel is the centerfold." Dean stopped short at the end of the chorus. He realized what he had just sang. The conversations he had with Castiel and Sam were brought back to the forefront of his mind. The alcohol didn't destroy all of his memories from the night before. Dean turned the volume down. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," Sam said. He had a feeling where this was heading. He wasn't the only one to notice the lyrics.

"It's about me," Dean said. "I need help figuring some stuff out."

"What is it?"

"Help me get Cas…"

Sam turned to face his brother. He scrunched up his face in bewilderment. "What?"

"I didn't finish," Dean said. "Help me get Cas, to…," Dean trailed off.

"No," Sam cut in. "I heard you correctly."

"Never mind." Dean turned the radio volume up.

"No," Sam said as he reached over and turned the volume back down, "not, 'never mind'. Talk to me."

"Do you think," Dean readjusted himself in the driver's seat, "thatI'm…you know…"

"Dean, for how many years I've know you," Sam paused, "no. I honestly don't think that you are."

"Really?" Dean turned his head towards Sam.

'Really. I'd say that you could possibly be bi, but I wouldn't say you're gay."

Dean slammed his foot on the breaks, and the Impala screeched to a halt. "Seriously?"

"You asked, I told." Sam shrugged. "Can we just keep going?"

"No," Dean said. He eased the car into the shoulder and put it in park. "You actually think I'm bi?"  
Sam sighed, "You asked me what I thought, and I told you what I thought."

"Explain."

"Okay. You like Dr. Sexy MD, for one."

Dean fluffed it off. "Oh, come on. That show is really good. The plot, the characters…"

"Two, you drunkenly admitted to me a few years ago that when you had tried on pink panties, you liked it."

"Come on!" Dean exclaimed. "They fit snug and the color looked good."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Three," he continued, "you won't admit this, but I know for a fact that you have a thing for glam rock." Dean squinted his eyes in confusion. "T-Rex, Bowie…," Sam started to rail off.

"But how can you hate them? Bowie? He's a god."

Sam couldn't help but to roll his eyes again. Half of the music that Dean was into seemed foreign to Sam. Though he grew up with it, Sam wasn't enthralled with the classic rock and metal that Dean seemed to adore. It was the fan boy in Dean that aided in his obsession with certain bands. And it was his emulation of his father that made Dean's obsession with classic rock stick. "Bowie is a known bi-sexual," Sam said.

"And you get points for that bit of info," Dean said. "But that doesn't make me… you know…"

"Whatever," Sam gave in. "Can we just go?"

"Fine," Dean said. He put the Impala into drive, put his foot on the gas and guided the car back into the lane. The exit to the highway was only a couple more miles down the road. The brothers didn't say anything more to each other. The radio blared out a few hits that Dean couldn't help but to sing along to while beating out the drum beats on the steering wheel.

"Can I just say one thing, though," Sam said, breaking the silence.

"Shoot."

"Honestly, I think it's more of a man crush that you have on Cas, rather than anything even remotely gay."

"Man crush?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. "You think he's awesome and that's all there is to it."

"He is pretty awesome," Dean admitted. "He did bring me my favorite burger from that place in Texas."

"If you really think that there's something up with you, then that's on you," Sam said. "I said my peace."

"I should just stop overthinking stupid crap like this anyway," Dean said. "I'm in my thirties for crying out loud. I'm not some whiny, angst ridden teenage girl."

"No, you're not."

"Then why does everyone think this, anyway?" Dean asked.

"You and Cas," Sam started to say, "are just really close friends, is all." Sam reached over to change the radio station. The song was Old Man by Neil Young, the one singer that Sam couldn't stand. He couldn't believe to admit this, but he preferred Crosby, Still and Nash before the Young. Dean reached over and slapped his brother's hand away before he could hit the right seek button. "You know I can't stand this song."  
"You know my first rule when I'm driving my baby," Dean said. "I let you listen to your indie crap when you drive."

"Fine," Sam said as he attempted to slouch in his seat. "How long until we get there?"

"Another two days," Dean replied.

"Wake me at the next stop," Sam said. He rested his head against the passenger window and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The boys had been heading west. Indiana held nothing for them, and they stopped only occasionally at run down bars and diners. Motels were out of the question as they had to reach Ohio by Friday. They switched driving to give the other a few hours of sleep in the passenger seat. Dean happily obliged to curl up and nod off when Sam decided to play Arcade Fire. The band was too artsy for Dean, even though he quite enjoyed this one song about keeping the car running. As he closed his eyes, Dean's mind drifted to thinking about how he needed to change the oil in the Impala.

Sam looked over to find Dean fast asleep. His brother had his green coat draped over his chest like a blanket, and his mouth was agape. Sam immediately recalled a few years previously when he had fallen asleep in that very seat. Dean had decided it was a good idea to fit a spoon in his mouth. This resulted in a day of pranks of which had ended with a truce. Sam laughed to himself. He didn't want to end the truce, but felt the need to mess with Dean.

There were candy wrappers strewn about the front of the car. At the last stop Dean had refused to leave without buying candy, pie, whiskey and a six pack. He had ate the pie rather quickly, drowning it with a beer. While Sam drove, Dean had ate his candy and let the wrappers fall where they may. Sam picked up a wrapper. It crinkled between his fingers, and Sam cringed. He looked over to see that Dean hadn't budged. Sam placed the wrapper ever so lightly on his brother's head. It stuck. Over the next few minutes Sam managed to get five wrappers lodged in Dean's ruffled hair. Sam decided that five was enough. He didn't want wake Dean.

After a good ten minutes, Sam couldn't take it anymore. His iPod was connected by a cable to a blank cassette tape. Dean didn't believe in putting a CD player in the Impala, and this was the only way that Sam was able to listen to his music when he was driving. He ran his finger on the screen of his iPod, searching for a certain song. Sam found it, pressed play, and turned up the volume. The speakers railed out a loud burst of drum beats.

"What the hell!" Dean jerked out of his slumber, and jumped a good foot out of the seat. His coat fell to the floor. The wrappers clung on to his hair for dear life. Sam burst out laughing. His prank worked out better than he had hoped. "What are you laughing at?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Sam was able to get out behind his chuckling. He tried to compose himself. "I think you have something in your hair."

"What?" Dean wrenched down the visor. "Candy wrappers," Dean said as he ruffled them out with both hands, "seriously?"

"Hey," Sam said, still laughing, "it worked."

"What the hell is this crap?" Dean reached over and turned the volume down. The beats coming through the speakers sounded foreign, they weren't what Dean was used to hearing.

"Dubstep," Sam replied.

"Dub-what?"

"It's electronic," Sam said, "like club music or something."

"You aren't even sure what it is?" Dean was dumbfounded. How could someone listen to a song without knowing a thing about it? Music was supposed to sound like it should with audible guitars, bass, drums and vocals. This mess of noise was starting to grind Dean's gears, and he couldn't take it anymore. "Why even have this?"

"It was free on iTunes a while back," Sam admitted. "I thought it would be worth saving."

"Yeah, well, don't ever play this crap again, Sammy," Dean said.

"Fine, I won't." Sam searched through his iPod. He found an album that he hadn't listened to a while, and pressed play. An electric guitar started to be heard against male vocals that Dean could easily understand. It was refreshing.

"That's more like it," Dean said as he relaxed in his seat. "Who is this?"

"Ted Leo and the Pharmacists," Sam said. "They've got punk and folk influences."

Dean was really liking this band. The singer didn't sound like a whiny twenty-something ranting and raving about life. And the lyrics, though slightly political, were relatable. "You got anything else by them?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, "I've got a couple of their albums on here." Sam held up his iPod in his right hand.

"That thing is smaller than a freakin' cassette tape."

"Dean, get out of the 1980s, would ya?"

"I have a cell phone, it isn't one of those old flip ones, and it's got a touch screen. I think that's all I need to survive this world."

Sam smirked. It truly was all Dean needed. When he wanted to use the internet, he borrowed Sam's laptop. Other than that, Dean had no use for a lot of the technology that people carried around with them. He had no need for five different devices that all did essentially the same thing. Twitter, tumblr, Facebook, and Instagram were all odd words that meant nothing to the man. Now, YouTube, Dean got on that bandwagon. He didn't want to tell Sam what he'd do for hours on end when he would get stuck in motel rooms by himself. They were filled with cats fitting themselves into small spaces, dogs barking out what sounded like words, and babies giggling uncontrollably. Outside of hunting, it added spice to Dean's mundane life of porn and alcohol.

Sam turned on the right blinker and slowed down the Impala as he eased the car into the off ramp. Signs strewn along the side of the highway told of gas stations and dinners. Fuel was nearly empty in both the car and Sam's nagging stomach. Dean's candy couldn't hold back the hunger. Sam's wristwatch read nearly six in the evening. The gloom of the winter sky made it feel even later. "Dean, you hungry?"

"I could eat," Dean said.

"We need gas and there's a diner close by."

"Perfect. I could use something greasy."

xxxxxxxxxx

The diner was a little Mom and Pop shop whose name could easily be forgotten right along with the food. A meal is a meal when you're on the road, and a hunter cannot have a refined pallet. Save that for the rest of America.

A plucky little old lady was behind the cash register counter when the boys walked into the diner. She perked up when she heard the Christmas bells on the door jingle. Even with the holidays over, the place still had the feel of Christmas. "Just the two of you this evening?" the woman asked as she grabbed two menus from the stack on the counter.

"Yes," Dean replied.

The men followed the little woman down the expanse of the diner. Booths lined the right wall and tables filled up the rest of the building. They weren't the only people dining out that night. A few young couples with children were trying desperately to have a decent night out. She placed the plastic menus down at a booth. "I hope this will do for the both of you," she said as Sam and Dean eased into the red plastic seats. "Colleen will be with you shortly."

"So," Sam started to say, "are we done talking about what we were discussing?"

"About what," Dean said. He had the menu titled up, his eyes scanning the many choices it had to offer. Dean didn't want to look his brother in the eye. He knew what Sam wanted to talk about, but he wasn't ready to keep the conversation going. He felt it had been wrapped up nice and neat in the car.

"About you and Cas," Sam said.

"I thought we finished that yesterday."

"Did we?" Sam had to ask.

Dean let go of his menu and looked directly at his brother. "How much more uncomfortable are you going to make this for me?"  
"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just thought we should finish talking."

The waitress was young, in her mid-twenties, and was even more interested in her job as she saw the two good looking men sitting in her section. She fidgeted with her white headband, straightened her apron and walked up to the booth. She grabbed two cups of ice water and straws on her way. "My name is Colleen," she said as she set down the water, "what can I get you boys?" She had a slight southern drawl to her voice, far from the Midwestern tone of Ohio.

"Coffee, black," Dean recited behind his menu. He hadn't even bothered to look up at the waitress.

"I'll have the same, thanks," Sam said, smiling at the young woman. "Seriously, Dean," Sam said after she was out of earshot, "she's young and pretty and you didn't even look at her."

"Huh," Dean got out as he looked up at Sam. "Did you know they still serve breakfast?"

Sam rolled his eyes and slouched in his seat. "Figures."

"We're done discussing this, Sammy."

"We're not done, Dean."

"Fine," Dean huffed. He laid the menu on the table and folded his hands. "Cas, get your feathery ass over here," Dean called out towards the ceiling.

"So, we're actually going to discuss this?" Sam asked. He couldn't believe that Dean was willing to bring Castiel into this conversation, let alone without a glass of hunter's helper. Castiel appeared in the seat next to Dean, startling the brothers.

"Jesus Christ," Dean exclaimed.

"What about him?" Castiel asked.

"It's just an expression," Sam said, "that you probably shouldn't use." Sam threw his balled up straw wrapper at Dean. It hit his brother square in the forehead. Dean stared down his gigantic, younger brother. He was starting to become the assbutt of Sam's pranks. Sam wasn't willing to discuss deep thoughts about Dean's life, he was only there to draw out new things to torture the man with.

"What is it," Castiel said. He was perturbed to be called out of heaven at a time like this, knowing full well that Dean and Sam weren't in need of his guidance.

"We need to discuss something with you," Sam said. "Or, rather, Dean does."

"Oh," the waitress exclaimed as she returned to the boys with two steaming cups of coffee. She placed them down on the table. "I hadn't heard you come in," she remarked.

"That's because I flew here," Castiel said.

Dean immediately grabbed Castiel on the shoulder. "Flew in from California, just yesterday."

"No, I didn't, Dean."

Dean laughed, "Jet lag." Castiel turned to his friend in confusion.

"Will you be needing anything to drink?" she asked.

"I don't drink," Castiel said.

Sam butt in, "Just get him a water."

"Can do," she said as she sauntered off towards the kitchen.

Castiel placed his hands on the table. "What did you need to discuss, Dean?"

"It's nothing," Dean mumbled behind his coffee mug.

Sam sat up in his seat. "Just say it, Dean."

"Fine. Cas, I…," he trailed off.

Sam threw up his arms. "Come on!" He sounded just like his older brother, it was the same inflection.

Dean took in deep breath, holding it for a moment, and exhaled. "Cas, I," he paused, "have a man crush on you."

Castiel looked like a deer in the headlights of the Impala. He had no idea what that meant, but it didn't sound like a good thing.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It means, Dean has a thing for you. He doesn't love you, but it's pretty damn close."

Dean was miffed. Sam really was messing with him on purpose. He knew how and where to push the right buttons. Dean grabbed the wad of paper that Sam had thrown, and chucked it, aiming for Sam's face. He missed. It hit Sam's shoulder and landed on the seat next to him.

Castiel adjusted in his seat to face his friend. "I love you too, Dean."

The Winchesters sat in silence, not knowing how to respond to this news. It was sincere. Castiel meant those few words he said to Dean. He really cared for, even loved, the man that sat next to him. Castiel would do anything for him, and had done everything in his power to aid Dean in his troubles. And this seemed to be the right thing to say to express that feeling.

"I um," Dean gulped, "I love you too, man."

The three men sat in the booth in relative silence. It became awkward between them after Dean had said that he loved Castiel back. Dean meant it as a brotherly love, a love that he shares with his brother, Sam. There wasn't a romantic notion behind it, and he hoped that Castiel felt the same way.

When the waitress came around with Castiel's water, Sam ordered a salad with chicken. The burger Castiel bought for him went down awkwardly, his insides not responding well to the red meat and grease. Dean got overly excited when he found out the diner makes breakfast all day. Pancakes and sausage sat on his plate amongst a pool of syrup. They ate and talked about the possible case that awaited them in Michigan. Dean steered away from their last conversation topic, and Sam figured he caused enough trouble for his older brother for one day. When they finished their dinner, Castiel departed back to heaven. Dean got behind the wheel, and Sam sat shotgun. The snow began to fall, drifting down towards the ground as the Impala drove off down the highway.

* * *

**Note:** Whee! This is my longest fanfic, yet. I'm pretty happy with it, so far. Hopefully you enjoyed it. I'll post more up when it gets written. Sadly, I work only two days next week. But that means I get to write more. Which is always a good thing, in my book. Yes, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists are a real band. One of my favorites. And they do have a song called, Colleen, hence the use of the name. Read, review and all that jazz. :)


	4. Chapter 4

"We're almost there," Sam said. There was a pause. "Okay," he paused again, "no problem." Sam took the phone from his ear, hit the red end button on the screen, and sighed.

"What'd he say?" Dean asked. He was in the driver's seat, left hand gripping the top of the steering wheel.

"Garth thinks it might be a rouge vampire," Sam said.

"Just one?"

"Possibly." Sam scratched the back of his head, messing up his long locks. He then began typing a few key words into the search engine on his smart phone. News stories were pulled up alongside blog posts concerning the brutal murder of a young woman. Sam clicked on the _Detroit News_ link. The title of article read, "Local Woman Killed by Mysterious Means". He scanned paragraphs quickly. "Says she lives in Clinton Township, but was found dead in an abandoned house in Detroit. Her parents said she had no reason to be there… Her body was found by two cops on a routine squatter check… She was found dead…," Sam was rattling off key points of the article.

"Does it give a name of the two cops that found her?"

"Yeah," Sam scrolled up on the page, "Deputies Franklin and York."

Dean laughed. "What is this, a cop drama? Franklin and York, Crime Scene Detectives. Best friends by day, partners by night."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Don't make it a homoerotic crime drama."

"If it happens, it happens," Dean replied.

"Get off the highway at the next exit," Sam said. He had pulled up his GPS. The Detroit police department was closer than they thought. Dean drove past the building, but decided to find a motel first. The boys needed to clean up, and change into their Fed suits. Hours of driving tended to leave them feeling disgusting.

Dean pulled up the Impala into the parking lot of a rundown motel. They decided to drive outside of the city, for it looked like they weren't going to find a place to crash. Detroit was bankrupt, and it showed. It was all abandoned homes, buildings and schools. And being two white men staying in the city was as awkward as finding themselves surrounded by demons. That sounds racist, but the boys didn't want to find themselves fending off humans when the possibilities of a vampire lurked in the darkness.

Once they donned their suits, trench coats and dress shoes, Dean and Sam drove the twenty minutes back to the police station.

"What does the FBI want with this case?" the burly cop said. He was leaning against the receptionist's desk with his arms crossed. The cop looked imploringly at the two young men before him.

"The curious circumstances of her death," Sam said. "We think it resembles a few cases that we've dealt with in the past." Sam slightly lied. They in fact had seen odd deaths during their cross country travels, but weren't exactly sure of this one. Whether or not it was a vampire was yet to be established.

"You two are awfully young to be FBI agents," the man scoffed. He gripped his arms tighter, and refused to look away from the men.

"Family business," Dean remarked. "We need to see the report, and we have to talk to those two cops that found the body."

"And you think I'm just going to hand them over to some pretty boys in suits?"

"Here," Sam said as he pulled out a business card, "call our department head, if you must." The newly printed cards had a new name with a new phone number. After Bobby had passed, Sam stopped at a Kinko's to print off new contact information, since Garth had taken over Bobby's role as middle man.

The cop took the card from Sam. He turned it over, looking for anything suspicious. It held nothing out of the ordinary. The name, Robert G. Newcastle sat under the FBI logo. A phone number followed. The cop was tempted to call, but decided to pocket the card for later use. He figured the men weren't lying, and called up his boss.

The Sheriff was an older gentleman. Even though he carried himself like a military man, he was on the scrawny side, hardly a man of the corps. He held out his hand to Sam and Dean.

"Agent Townsend," Dean said, "and this is my partner Agent Entwistle."

"Nice to meet you boys," the Sheriff said. "Call me Frank. So, I hear you're here for the Bernard case."

"Yes, we are," Dean said. "It resembles a few cases we've come across, and we thought it'd be best to check it out ourselves."

"Follow me," Frank said. He led Sam and Dean to his office, and shut the door behind them. Frank sat behind his desk, motioning to the men to sit opposite. "It's an odd one," he said as he opened the manila folder that sat on his desk, "she was found like this in one of the upstairs bedrooms." Frank took the picture from the folder and placed it between Sam and Dean. The girl was sprawled out in the middle of the floor. Her long, brown hair radiated from her head like the rays from the sun. The girls eyes were shut, mouth closed and her arms and legs were in awkward positions, emanating from her body. She could have been in a drug induced state, if it wasn't for the blood. The next picture was a close up of her head and neck. Despite the chunk of skin and muscle missing from the side of her throat, she was a very pretty young woman.

"This the cause of death?" Sam asked, pointing to the neck wound.

"If the coroner hadn't found anything else," Frank said. "Here's where he's at." He wrote down an address and slide it across the table. "I'll call him and tell him you're on your way."

"Thanks, Sheriff," Dean said.

Outside the snow began to fall. The radio in the car told of a snow storm that was heading their way. Dean was lucky enough to find two classic rock stations, opting for one over the other when he heard Metallica, Bob Seger, AC/DC and Rush all before the commercial break. David Bowie's Changes was blasting out of the Impala when they reached the Coroner's.

The body of the young woman was eerily similar to the crime scene photos. The only differences was that her hair had been combed, laying against her shoulders, and the bloody wound on her throat was cleaned. It was a deep wound, a good chunk of skin and muscle had been removed. Sam was able to view the body more thoroughly with the young medical student, who was the only person in the building. It was the snow storm that kept everyone home, away from their jobs.

"What'd you find?" Dean stayed out of the morgue. He left the work up to his younger brother, knowing his stomach would be less queasy than his own.

"Cause of death was the wound to the throat. The only other marks on the body were from her attacking the suspect. The coroner declared it a homicide."

"So," Dean sighed, "what do you think?"

"Vampire? Not sure, but it does look like something bit right into her neck," Sam said.

"Well, if it wasn't a vamp, what could it be?"

"We'll have to figure that out."

xxxxxxxxxx

It took a while to get the Impala through the snow. Dean tried desperately to keep his baby away from the perils of winter, but they were the closest hunters to Detroit, and they had to take what they could get. The car hit a rough patch of slush and ice. Dean white-knuckled the steering wheel, cursing at the thought of Garth in Miami. He'd rather be on the beach with hot chicks, than stuck in Michigan.

Once they reached the motel, Dean pulled the bottle of whiskey out of his duffel bag. He twisted the bottle cap off and took and large gulp. It burned going down.

"At least get a glass," Sam said.

Dean downed another swig. "Find me one, and I will." Sam knew that wasn't going to happen. Dean handed over the bottle to his brother, who gladly took a drink. "Freakin' snow, Sammy."

"It's not like we haven't experienced it in Kansas," Sam said.

"Nothing like this," Dean said, gesturing out the window. The snow was a couple inches and piling. Hopefully it would slow down, or stop by the time the men had to finish their investigation.

"I wonder if we should just call it a night," Sam said.

"Nope," Dean said, "we're going to do something fun tonight."

"What?"

"We're going to play some games," Dean said, a smile forming on his face. "I'm calling, Cas."

* * *

**Note:** Well, the holidays are over. And it's snowing outside. So, I write. This is what came out. Hope you like it. I know it was getting itself away from the light Destiel that i started with, but I'll get back to it. Going to write the boys having some fun drinking. That's always entertaining to write/read. Yes? Read and review and all that jazz.


	5. Chapter 5

The snow storm kept up, the white fluff was building on the sidewalk, and the boys chose to stay in their motel room. Castiel showed up quickly after Dean had called him. Dean was already buzzed off of the whiskey on an empty stomach, and prayed that the angel would bring back burgers and more booze. He did.

"Cas, you really are awesome," Dean said behind a mouthful. He was eating his burger like he hadn't eaten in days. Castiel was learning the ways of the Winchesters, and didn't hold back, showing up with two bottles of whiskey, a case of beer, and a bag of fast food. He popped in and out a few times, Dean getting a bigger smile with each item that Castiel brought to the motel room. Sam had to suck it up, and ate the burger. Castiel wasn't apt to buying him a salad.

"So," Sam said, "what kind of games did you have in mind, Dean?"

"I was thinking, since we don't have any board games or a deck of cards, we could stick to some of my favorite drinking games," Dean said with a smirk.

"Do I need to be drunk for this?" Castiel asked.

"I would advise it," Sam said. He sat back in his seat, knowing where this was headed.

Castiel grabbed a plastic cup and poured the whiskey. When it reached half filled, he decided that that was enough. It was roughly the equivalent of three shots. Dean smiled as he watched Castiel down the liquor in one go.

"Okay," Dean sat up in his seat, "here's the game. It's kind of a cliché, but it's worth it if you want to get really wasted."

"I think we better stick with beer," Sam said. He grabbed three bottles from the case that was sitting next to the motel door. The beer wasn't wicked cold, but it would have to do.

"The game is easy," Dean said as he popped the caps off his beer and Castiel's, "you say something that you haven't done in your life, and if the other people playing have done it, they drink."

"This might be rather difficult," Castiel said. "We have all done our fair share of odd things together."

"Well, we'll just have to see what happens," Dean said with a mischievous look on his face.

"I'll start," Sam said. "I've never left a girl while she slept after having sex with her." Dean gulped down some beer. Castiel and Sam sat still.

"Seriously? Make me look like the bad guy," Dean said. "I've never read a book before the movie came out."

Sam drank. "All Harry Potter novels, The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings and Narnia."

"But, of course," Dean said with a smirk. "Cas, your turn."

"I've never had sex." Castiel said it with little thought. It rolled off his tongue rather easily. Dean tried to not spit his beer out of his mouth in laughter.

"We seriously have to get you laid," Dean said.

"Maybe you can show him the ropes," Sam said. "Hey," Sam exclaimed as he almost got hit with a flying bottle cap.

"I've never had the need for procreation," Castiel admitted.

"It's not about that," Dean said.

"Then what's it about?" Castiel really was curious about this act of humanity.

"It's enjoyable, fun… You know what, I'm not talking about this," Dean said.

"Okay," Sam said, changing the subject, "I've never watched anime."

Dean drank. "You know what, Castiel is not getting drunk enough."

"What's anime?"

"Creepy Japanese smut," Sam quickly said.

"Nuh uh," Dean said. "It's entertaining adult cartoons. Like Family Guy or South Park without the fart jokes."

"Let's do this instead," Sam offered. "Let's switch it up and go old school."

"Truth or dare? Like a couple of pre-teens at a slumber party?"

"Yes, Dean, we're a couple of pre-teens and this is our slumber party, beer and all."

"I'm intrigued," Castiel said. "What are the rules?"

"One person asks another person, 'Truth or Dare'," Sam started.

Dean continued, "Then you say whether you want a truth or a dare."

"And then the person who asked, asks a question where the person has to be honest about answering," Sam said.

"Or a dare that the person has to complete, no questions asked," Dean finished.

"Okay," Castiel said, "Dean, truth or dare."

Dean gulped down the last of his beer. "Truth."

"When was the last time you haven't had a drink?"

"What if I can't honestly remember?" Dean said, looking at his brother for help. "There's no way that I could figure that one out. I've been drinking almost every night since Dad didn't mind me downing beer at eighteen." Dean turned on his brother, "Sam, truth or dare?"

"I'll stick with truth."

"Did you seriously not get an STD during your time without a freakin' soul? I mean, come on," Dean said.

"Luckily," Sam said, "no. I was good. That, or I just lucked out with some special mojo that not having a soul gave me." Sam downed his beer. He went behind him and grabbed three more, the next round for the friends. "Okay, Cas, truth or dare?"

"I should have to go with dare," Castiel said. He still had half a beer. It didn't do much to his vessel. He couldn't feel the alcohol working in his system in the slightest.

"Alright," Sam said, a smile quickly formed on his face, "I dare you to kiss Dean."

Dean's eyes practically bugged out of his eye sockets. If he had been drinking at that moment, the beer would have been all down the front of his shirt. He was glad that he wasn't, and that it didn't happen.

Castiel stood from his seat. "Well," he started, "I have been dared."

"Fine," Dean said. He drank a rather large gulp of his beer. Dean stood up and faced his friend. He was only slightly taller, a few inches at most, and neither man had to strain. They each shut their eyes as they inched their faces closer together. Neither man hesitated. Their lips met without any thought against the act. As if on cue their mouths parted. Dean's tongue met Castiel's.

"Get off it," Sam said. He chucked an empty plastic cup at the two. "If you two need this motel room, I'll just have to trudge out in the snow and get my own."

Dean coughed, straightened his shirt, and sat back in his seat. He poured a rather large shot of whiskey. Dean downed it. He poured another.

"Oh, that was priceless," Sam said, as he laughed, clutching his sides. It was the best thing he had seen in a long while.

"Can we play something different?" Dean asked. He was holding his beer, rubbing the condensation on the bottle with his thumb. It really wasn't any fun anymore when your little brother screws you over again. The pranks aside, this was the worst one yet. Dean wouldn't admit it, but he rather liked the kiss. Perhaps it was because he hadn't gotten laid in a few months. Or it was because it was a shared moment between him and Castiel. Dean shifted that last bit of thought out of his brain. That wasn't it. That would never be it.

"Fine," Sam gave in. He could tell that his brother was pissed at what he had just done. "Let's just watch the Doctor Sexy marathon."

"I'm down," Dean said as he stood up from his chair.

"I should leave," Castiel said. He was staring down at his hands.

Dean turned on his friend, "Could you stay, Cas?"

Castiel looked up at Dean. They shared a look before Castiel replied, "I will, Dean."

Sam rolled his eyes, sat on his bed, and turned the television. The theme song to Dr. Sexy MD started and Dean jumped on his bed. He motioned for Castiel to join him.

* * *

**Note:** I wrote this last night. The snow storm must have messed with the internet, so I couldn't post it. But here it is. I'm just letting what happens, happen in these scenes. It's rather fun that way, I think.


End file.
